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Carol entered the church half expecting to feel the coolness of air conditioning on her skin, the way it usually was. She was always cold in church—which at least had made it easier to always wear a sweater, covering the bruises on her arms.
But there had been no air conditioning in this church for a long time, just more damp heat. Slightly less than outside, but not by much.
She went to the front of the church, kneeling with her hands on the rail around the altar, staring up at the figure on the cross. She used to feel such reverence in these places, a long time ago. She had believed. After years of Ed, she believed a little less than she used to, and after the world ended, maybe she didn't believe at all. But if belief could bring Sophia back, if God would listen and bring her little girl back to her, she would believe again, she would try to see something in all this that had meaning, that made sense.
"Father, forgive me," she said softly, forgetting the others. "I don't deserve Your mercy. I prayed for safe passage from Atlanta and You provided. I prayed for Ed to be punished, for laying his hands on me, and for looking at his own daughter with whatever sickness was growing in his soul." Tears were forming in the back of her throat, her voice thickening with them, but the words flowed without her meaning them to. "I prayed You'd put a stop to it, give me a chance to raise her right, help her avoid my mistakes. She's so fearful," she said in a rush, knowing that her timid girl was not equipped to be alone out there, living in a horror movie come to life.
That was her fault, her fear transferring itself to Sophia, her inability to get out, get away, keeping Sophia so quiet and scared, glued to her side. Had she wanted that, all the time, for Sophia to be too afraid to grow up and leave her alone with Ed? If that had been secretly in her heart all along, maybe she deserved this, to lose the last person in the world she had left to love.
"She's so young in her way," Carol went on, hoping God was hearing her and understanding her deep need, her plea for Sophia's life and safety. "She hasn't had a chance." But the carved face of Jesus on the cross was still and silent. It had no ears. It couldn't hear her. Still … she needed to confess what she had done wrong. Maybe if she did that she wouldn't have to be punished. "Praying for Ed's death was a sin," she admitted in a whisper. "Please. Don't let this be my punishment. Let her be safe. Alive and safe. Please, Lord." Tears were gathering in her eyes, and she let them come. So many times over the years she had swallowed her tears, forcing them to dry up so that Ed wouldn't have the satisfaction of making her cry. She had almost forgotten how to weep. "Punish me however you want," she pleaded, the tears spilling from her eyes and making a track down her face, "but show mercy on her."
If there was a God still, He would hear her. He would answer. Carol knew all too well that the answers God gave weren't always the ones people expected, but what else was there to do? She couldn't go hunting for Sophia in the woods, she couldn't call anyone for help—she already had more help than she could have hoped for, and they were doing their best. All Carol could do was stand here in church and pray, and hope that her child wouldn't have to be punished for her mistakes.
Standing up, she turned and saw Lori in the front pew, and sank down next to her, all the strength gone out of her with the prayer. Lori put an arm around her, held her hand lightly, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Lori knew how it felt; she was a mother. Carol relaxed against her, wanting, more than anything, just not to have to think anymore. To sink into oblivion and not come back to reality, if that was what this was, until Sophia was here, safe in her arms again.
But that was impossible. She knew that. So she let Lori lead her out of the church and back into the hot sunshine of the Georgia afternoon. Was this still Georgia? Did Georgia exist anymore? Maybe nothing did. Maybe they were all that was left, and all their efforts to survive, to get somewhere, were so much wasted time.
Carol followed Darryl and the others back into the woods, looking around her for Sophia all the time. She had meant what she said—praying for Ed to die had been a sin. It hadn't seemed so at the time. People were dying all around them, what was to say he shouldn't be one of them? She had felt it was wrong even as she prayed for it. But now, having confessed her sin in front of God, she wondered if she really had done something so wrong by wanting the man who had harmed her all these years to die, wanting her daughter to be safe from him. It was hard to know … it was hard to care. With the whole world fallen to pieces, really, what mattered anymore anyway?